


Sing

by Lacertae



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Explosions, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mentions of Robot Gore, Near Death Experiences, Singing, Wounds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2019-01-29 10:14:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12628773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lacertae/pseuds/Lacertae
Summary: *Genji/Zenyatta*Based on tumblr otpprompts post: Imagine Person A of your OTP is badly injured and Person B sings to them.





	Sing

**Sing**

“Genji…?”

It comes out weird, disjointed, his synth cracked and broken, but it doesn’t matter, really. He’s heard nonetheless.

Genji is cradling him close, Zenyatta’s head on his lap, and one of his hands is caressing down the side of his facial plate. He cannot feel it, most of his sensors fried and fizzed out, but he knows it’s there.

It’s enough to reassure him he’s not alone.

“Y– yes?” Genji hiccups, his voice broken for an entirely different reason.

Zenyatta should chastise him, but his battery levels are almost depleted, and there’s a dull ache sparkling through the connective wires of his remaining arm which shoots pain up his sensor receptors with every small shift of Genji’s body underneath him.

Warnings flash past his vision, annoying him with alerts about how his midsection is leaking oil to dangerous levels, but Zenyatta dismisses the warning without caring, as it’s not… important, right now.

He feels sluggish, anchored to his chassis and yet strangely detached, the pain the only constant. Fighting against himself, Zenyatta tilts his head an inch, just enough to look up at Genji’s face.

He removed the upper part of his visor earlier on but he had to keep his mask on, his breathing too laboured and heavy to be able to breathe without assistance, but that’s all Zenyatta needs to see –the bridge of his nose, with one of the scars barely visible, and his eyes, and the dried tracks of tears that disappear behind the edge of his mouthpiece.

Genji is shaking, minutely, trembling, small sounds leaving his lips as if he can’t restrain them.

Zenyatta… he loses himself, then, just for a moment.

Genji is… beautiful. It always makes Zenyatta pause, stop what he’s doing at any time of the day, to look at whatever Genji is doing, simply to observe him, and marvel at how far he’s come, how strong his soul is. How much he loves him.

He gets lost in thought, so focused on Genji’s eyes that he does not realise the edges of his vision go dark, blurry, and is only roused from his lull by Genji’s frantic murmurs, his tone rushed, panicked.

Suddenly he looks closer to his facial plate than before, and yet Zenyatta has a hard time focusing on him, part of his face too damaged, one of his optical sensors already cracked.

“–ster! Master, please, I–” Genji chokes on his words, swallows, his voice thick with tears and pain, and his eyes crinkle, tears rolling down his cheeks anew. “I can’t… stay with me. Angela and Lucio are… they are coming. Jesse said they–they’re coming, alright? Please… don’t… they said you have to stay online.”

Zenyatta’s forehead array blinks unsteadily, the three remaining dots a much dimmer teal than ever before, and for a moment, Zenyatta is unsure what those words mean, his processes slow on the uptake, his mind still lost somewhere in the past, where Genji is smiling at him, radiant and beautiful, then…

_Oh._

Then he remembers.

There was an attack.

The details are lost in his faulty data banks, but they got ambushed on their way to the house of an ambassador they should have been protecting. It was a premeditated attack, and they’d countered neatly both Genji’s speed and Zenyatta’s orbs.

Despite the disruption, Zenyatta and Genji deal with the enemies as swiftly as possible, and just as Zenyatta is calling for backup, Genji facing three men on his own, something drops at Zenyatta’s side, clattering against the pavement of the street, making him look at it, and then–

The explosion takes Zenyatta by surprise.

There is no time to prepare, or Transcend to avoid damage.

Zenyatta had been right beside it when the bomb explodes, sending him crashing into the wall behind him only to drop on the ground seconds later, winded and in pain. One of his arms is smashed into tiny fragments, and one of his legs is ripped from him while the other turns into a mangled bunch of crumpled metal. He cannot feel it, as his processors have been affected, making it impossible to tally the damage correctly, but part of his facial plate has been destroyed too, revealing the delicate circuits below, now exposed and visible.

By some kind of miracle, Genji was far enough to be spared –unharmed, he’s only hit by some scraps of metal flying his way due to the blast, barely enough to scratch the armoured plates of his body… of that, Zenyatta is grateful.

He has no idea what happened to the enemies, his processors too busy overclocking and whirring uselessly to take notice of much else, but distantly, Zenyatta hears the sounds of Genji’s dragon being summoned, so he suspects they were dealt with, or escaped.

Too bad he could not see it –Genji’s display of skill is always one Zenyatta enjoys the most.

Zenyatta looks past the concrete and the wall, and at the sky, tinged with orange. Yet another thing he would have liked to watch with Genji, his dear Genji, but alas…

Seconds later Genji rushes to his side, screaming and calling for him, hesitant to even touch him in fear of harming him. In the end, with Zenyatta’s remaining hand twitching and attempting to reach for him, Genji caves in and gently shifts Zenyatta’s heavy head to lay on his lap, where he can keep monitoring his vitals as they wait for someone to come to help them.

It’s too bad they’ve been travelling through an empty parking lot when they were attacked –no one is around, and Genji does not dare to leave without Zenyatta. He is always by his side, always, not just now, and Zenyatta does not know what he’d do without… without…

Again, Zenyatta realises his attention has wavered, and he attempts to focus, but everything is dulled out, except the flares of pain coming from the severed cables and circuits of his missing leg and arm, and the mangled remains of what’s left of his body.

He’s grateful the explosion has fried enough of his pain receptors or he would be unable to even stay online. Even now, the fight to remain awake is difficult, and unpleasant. His consciousness wavers, falters, lines of coding and warning messages flashing through what’s left of his field of vision.

There’s extensive damage to his optical receptors, and soon they will crash, but at least his auricular ones are still functioning despite the loud explosion noise. That is… good.

It means he can still hear Genji’s voice, even as it’s growing increasingly difficult to see him, even this close.

Genji is still speaking, he realises with a small jolt.

He has been murmuring to him all this time, trying to keep Zenyatta’s attention focused on him, but it is… hard. So hard. Zenyatta is tired, and his battery is almost fully depleted. He does not think he will be able to stay online enough to…

Enough to– to–

“Gen–nn–ji,” he murmurs. The name glitches, the vowels elongated weirdly in his vocal chords, his synth cracking, and his synth repeats the last syllable twice before it unlocks. It sounds metallic, mechanic, empty.

Genji shuts up, the soft murmurs and sobs suddenly fading into silence as he leans down, strains to hear what Zenyatta has to say.

Again, the closeness makes it hard to focus, and Zenyatta wishes to reach out and wipe away the tears on Genji’s cheeks, make it so such suffering disappears. To see him in such a state is…

Is…

But no. He needs to focus.

“I w-woul–d…” haltingly, Zenyatta attempts to speak, the pressure against his synth almost unbearable. He tilts his neck upwards, resists the urge to make a choked noise when the movement _hurts_ , and tries again. “–like you t–to do… someth–ing fo-r me.”

Genji’s hold on his body tightens, and Zenyatta _does_ feel that –the way his fingers dig into the soft part of his side, inches away from where his leg should have been. It hurts, but the pain of it is fresh and sharp, and it pushes some of the fog away from his mind, just a little bit.

He’s so tired, so…

“A-anything, Master. What… please, do not speak, I… I promise, help is on the way. Angela will, she will…” Genji swallows, grits his teeth under his mask, and breathes harshly, loud enough that Zenyatta can hear him.

He’s not quite close to hyperventilating, but he is having difficulties with breathing. Zenyatta wishes there was something he could do.

As it is, he can do nothing, but the curl of selfishness inside him prods him further, to keep talking.

He has no idea if Angela and Lucio will arrive in time. He has great confidence in their skills, and knows they will do their best to help, and if it comes to his body, he knows they will fix him. They can ask for help, and the many friends of OverWatch will give it to them, no questions asked… yet, it is not a matter of his body, but his mind.

His core is damaged, and this impacts on his brain processes, on his thoughts.

On his self.

Zenyatta cannot think too clearly, but he can recognise the slow failure of his circuitry.

He is slowly fading, feels himself grow faint, detached. He is worried not of a reboot, but of a reset.

It should scare him, but Genji is with him, and that… helps.

It is difficult to be scared when the one you love is holding you close.

Again, he tries to focus. He has to ask something, right–

Ah.

“S–sssing for m–me, Genji.”

It’s simple. He wants to listen to Genji’s voice, and then he’ll focus on that, he won’t cry, he won’t break down, and Zenyatta needs to listen to him, he needs…

The request startles Genji enough that he stops crying, eyes wide in shock. One hand lifts to his face, wipes the tears away hastily before returning to Zenyatta’s facial plate to run a thumb, gently, where it’s cracked and exposing what’s below. He hesitates, falters, swallows reflexively a few times, and then shakes his head.

“Zenyatta, I…”

“Pl–lease?”

Genji’s shoulders jolt, he hunches back a little, defensive, holding back more tears, then he nods. “I could never deny you anything. You… you know that. I… Zenyatta, please, you can’t–”

It takes him so much energy –too much, too much– to lift one finger, barely, and touch the hand holding his side. He cannot reach Genji’s face, nor the hand against his facial plate, but he can stretch one finger enough to do this, at least.

“You have… a sp–splendid voice, my… my–my dear. P-please, le–ee–et- me…”

Genji barks out a weak, shaky laughter, nothing more than a huff. “You’re… the only one who ever said that. Even.. even Mondatta said I was unfortunately lacking the gift of…” he trails off, bites down on what he wants to say. Falls silent.

A few seconds tick by, the silence only broken by Genji’s laboured breathing as he tries to compose himself.

Too bad Zenyatta has depleted all the energy reserves he had –with them no more, his forehead array flickers off into darkness, and his finger, too heavy, drops on the ground and away from Genji’s hand.

“Z–Zenyatta? Master?!” instantly, Genji’s hand traces the surface of his forehead, urgent, panicky.

It’s shaking, Genji’s shaking hard, but Zenyatta doesn’t answer. He can’t. he doesn’t have enough strength even for that.

His body feels heavy, and his missing limbs feel heavy despite their absence. His optical receptors choose this moment to go fully offline, and Zenyatta feels anchored in a single spot, lost and unfeeling.

He’s plunged in a suffocating, thick darkness, most of his body in pain or strangely dull, with Genji the only thing he can still sense on the outside, and even that little grip is slipping from his tired senses, fading.

Zenyatta is fading, and he knows it.

He attempts to speak again, but he cannot focus enough to send the command through to his synth. Instead, it glitches, cracks and fails.

“Master?!” above him, he hears Genji’s voice call for him. Plead, scream, his hands clutching at his body like a lifeline, but he cannot answer.

He needs to stop, rest and recover his battery levels, he needs. He needs…

Zenyatta is floating.

In the dark, he feels almost weightless now, the pain naught but a dull dream left behind.

Detached, he floats, unable to move or think, his thoughts bleak, unfeeling. Something is beeping, a single line into the distance, warnings he cannot read flash somewhere in the back of his conscious, warnings

_~~[… error. System malfunction.~~ _

_~~Impossible to connect with mainframe. Impossible to reboot~~ _

_~~Malfunction detected, attempting fix…]~~ _

It’s difficult to pay attention, and think. It’s difficult to do anything except be, so Zenyatta lets himself float.

_~~[Fix failed.~~ _

_~~System too damaged to reboot.~~ _

_~~System Reset attempt in 10…]~~ _

In the dull, empty darkness, Zenyatta is tired. Depleted.

He knows he’s forgetting something, but soon… soon it won’t matter.

The dark is compelling, the quiet is soothing, almost. He knows he should not do it, but… he doesn’t remember why. He’s tired, and weary, and he does not remember.

_~~[… 9… 8…]~~ _

Something soft, and gentle, and rough, catches his attention.

_~~[… 7… 6…]~~ _

It vibrates in the darkness around him, at first so quietly he can barely hear it, then louder, loud enough that he can focus on it, so he does, almost reluctantly but curious, as if it’s calling for him.

_~~[… 5… 4…]~~ _

The fragment that is all that’s left of Zenyatta’s consciousness latches onto the sound, expands with a tremble, and welcomes it with joy, words he cannot truly distinguish curling around him like a blanket, warm and familiar and gentle.

Ah.

He recognises this voice. He knows… this is what he was forgetting.

Something almost like light flickers in the dark, a golden halo that is made stronger by the voice, spectral hands reaching out for him, for that fragment that is Zenyatta’s consciousness, his soul, that tiny, leftover speckle in the middle of nowhere.

The hands stretch forever, spurred on the stronger the voice becomes, and amidst the singing, Zenyatta is sure, is so sure, he hears a familiar voice, someone lost from long time ago, call his name.

_~~[3… 3–3…––3-…––––]~~ _

_‘Not now, Zenyatta. Go back.’_

_~~[…]~~ _

Genji sings.

He sings with a rough, desperate edge, his voice shaking at first, almost feeble, saliva and the salty trace of tears coating his tongue.

He sings with a voice thick with tears and pain, but he sings loud enough that the silence around him vibrates and shatters, and feels no shame in that. There is no other thought in his mind except that he needs to sing, that Zenyatta asked him to.

He stops thinking and simply sings, latches on the last of Zenyatta’s request.

Genji sings, clutches the mangled remains of Zenyatta’s fingers in his own and holds onto them like a lifeline, holds onto the unresponsive, heavy body of his love, and sings.

Tears roll down his cheeks, his harsh breathing and shaky voice disrupting his singing, but he _keeps going_ , sings with all the desperation he can muster, sings for Zenyatta the songs he’s sung for him on their travels before OverWatch, sings for Zenyatta the songs his mother once used to sing to him, so long ago that most words should be forgotten and yet are so clear in his mind.

He sings the one song Mondatta taught the both of them, once, at the Monastery, chuckling at Genji for the way his voice is unsuited for tunes too deep, the way it cracks and tends to raise too high, almost unpleasant even when Zenyatta chides him for saying ‘such obviously untrue things’.

Zenyatta liked that song. He liked to listen to Mondatta sing it. He liked when Genji joined in. He liked to join in himself, until they were singing it together, all the three of them.

Genji lost Mondatta already, he can’t… he can’t lose Zenyatta as well.

Yet he does not allow himself to think about that.

He does not think.

He sings.

He sings, and clings to Zenyatta, and when he ends one song he doesn’t even stop to think as he starts another, until his voice is raspy and there’s no more saliva in his mouth, and then he continues singing.

And as he hears footsteps rush his way, and Angela’s voice calling his name, followed by the sound of Lucio’s skates clacking against the stones of the pavement, Genji sings even louder in reply, and feels, clutched in his hand, Zenyatta’s fingers give a feeble, weak twitch.

He sings, and keeps Zenyatta close, and does not let go.

 


End file.
